


Have You Seen The New Kid?

by Safiyabat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, High School, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-27
Updated: 2013-11-27
Packaged: 2018-01-02 19:31:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1060710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Safiyabat/pseuds/Safiyabat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The guidance counselor at Sam's latest high school takes an interest in her newest student.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Have You Seen The New Kid?

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in response to a prompt from tumblr user reluctantisthehero: Prompt, if you want to: A teacher/ guidance counselor POV on Sam Winchester and becoming a bit fascinated. Also, if you want, them being a bit concerned for Sam's safety at home. 
> 
> For the record it has been a long time since I was in high school. Call inaccuracies with regards to registering for the SATs creative license.
> 
> Supernatural and the characters from the show are not my property. I make no money from this or any other work of fan fiction.

Sue set her coffee down and looked at the file on her desk. It was at least five times as thick as the next thickest file she’d ever seen, which only made sense. Sam Winchester had changed schools at least six times per year since starting first grade – six times at a minimum, usually more. She’d actually had to bring the file home last night to wade through it and she tried not to bring work home with her if she could possibly avoid it. Some of the schools had only contained him for a week or two. Sometimes there had been huge gaps between enrollments, gaps large enough to result in the kid being a full year behind his age group. That was a shame, too, because it seemed like he’d shown signs of being exceptional pretty early. 

She’d met him when the kid had enrolled, him and his father. His file hadn’t arrived yet of course or else she’d have had more questions. The kid hadn’t said much at all; he’d just held his course enrollment form out with the appropriate signatures. She tried to remember what he’d looked like. He’d been tall, she recalled. At least six foot two. His arms had stuck out a couple of inches from the ends of his threadbare shirts too, so that height was almost certainly recent and sudden. She remembered sandy brown hair and lowered eyes. The father stuck out a little more in her mind. He’d been a larger than life figure, a little taller than the son actually and solid muscle. He’d had dark hair with and a dark beard, with worn jeans and a worn flannel shirt. 

The father hadn’t wanted to be there, she remembered, taking a sip from her coffee and flipping through some of the pages she’d flagged. He’d exuded an aura of frustration and of quiet menace. “You the guidance counselor?” he’d demanded, not even deeming her worthy of a verb.

“I’m Mrs. Lawrence,” she’d admitted, holding out a hand to shake. “You must be Mr. Winchester.” He hadn’t accepted her offer, just leaned against the closed door. Dark eyes burned into his son, who sat across from her with the enrollment form. She’d looked over the form. “These are some very impressive classes, Sam, but your transcript from Ellicott City suggests that you should be able to handle them. Tell me, did you already take the SATs?”

“Sam’s not taking any damn tests,” the senior Winchester snarled.

“Mr. Winchester, his full file hasn’t made it here yet but someone with his course load is certainly college-bound. He needs the SATs to actually continue on that path,” she’d told him carefully.

“Sam isn’t going to college. Stop putting thoughts in his head. He’s got a place and it isn’t at some sissy school. We done here?” 

Sue hadn’t wanted to aggravate the man any further. She didn’t know what he was capable of, whether or not he was dangerous. Scratch that – she knew he was dangerous. She just wasn’t sure how in control of himself he was at the moment. The boy hadn’t really looked up either, although his jaw had twitched. “Sign here and here – standard waivers in case of medical emergency and consent to participate in physical education,” she told him, maybe a little coldly. She had her suspicions about the Winchesters at that point but she couldn’t actually prove anything. After all, she’d had three minutes with them and no actual conversation with the boy. Maybe the father had been having a bad day. Maybe they’d had a fight on the way over here. Maybe Sam had been difficult lately – he was clearly going through a growth spurt, that could be a trying time for anyone. Still, something didn’t quite sit right with Sue. 

Fortunately she had pretty good relationships with most of his teachers. She checked in with them periodically over the next few weeks and over time she managed to get a pretty good picture of Sam Winchester. Not, she reflected, that the picture she got made much sense.

Sue Lawrence knew high school kids. For all their fiercely guarded individuality they tended to fall into categories and sort themselves accordingly. It was just the way humans worked; they were social animals and tended to seek out others of their own kind, and adolescence was the time for finding out what one’s own kind was. Just based on transcripts Sue would have sorted Sam into the “smart kids” category, because if he stuck around long enough he’d be valedictorian without even breaking a sweat. He was technically a junior. He was already taking the most advanced math class they offered and didn’t seem to be exceptionally perplexed by it. His other enrollments were all advanced placement where available, honors otherwise and as his grades started to come in it became apparent that he was passing with flying colors. 

However, he didn’t socialize with the other “smart kids.” They were all very much college bound, and much of their non-class discussion related directly to college prep and college planning. Sam could not participate in those discussions. Their desire to go to college led them to participate in extracurricular activities, which Sam avoided. Fran, the history teacher, tried to lure him into her Model UN group but he declined, saying that his father wasn’t keen on the whole school club thing. Most of the other kids had families that supported their academic goals and interests. Sam did not.

He was quiet, that was a given. Sue assumed that he was shy and maybe that had something to do with it. When people did speak to him, though, he looked them in the eye and he didn’t back down. That went for classes, when he’d even hold his ground against teachers, and for the cafeteria or the locker room. Apparently some of the local meatheads – Sue knew she shouldn’t think of them that way but she couldn’t help it – tried to establish his place on the school’s pecking order fairly early in his tenure, in between classes in the math wing. Two lockers would need to be replaced because of the force with which Percy Jones and Mike Jackson had encountered them, and no one had actually seen Winchester do much but step out of the way and maybe block a little. That should have put him more in line with the “tough kids,” but his academic leanings and his silence kept him out of that bucket. 

So that was a “no” for the smart kids, “no” for the tough kids, and since it was too late to try out for any of the current teams and he apparently wasn’t allowed extracurriculars that was a “no” on the jocks too. Sam hadn’t registered for any art classes or music classes, isolating him from the band or art kids. There were the auto shop kids, but he gave them a wide berth. His clothes might have been off-putting to the goths and the punks, or maybe it was the polite wariness with which he seemed to view them (and everyone else). He seemed far too clear-headed for the stoners. 

If the lack of social interaction bothered Sam he didn’t show it. Other isolated children she’d seen had displayed certain signs. They’d slouched a lot. They’d been the target of bullies, maybe because of their size or maybe because of their accent or some other distinguishing feature. He’d already given a pretty graphic demonstration about physical bullying and if cruel pranks or taunts were happening Sue couldn’t see it. She supposed they’d have to have something to grab onto and they didn’t. Of course, with the number of times he’d done the “new kid” routine he’d probably figured out every which way they could carve him. Maybe he just wasn’t socializing because he’d moved around so often. He didn’t want to get attached because it hurt less when he had to leave. 

According to the teachers who eavesdropped on student gossip – the students would have been horrified to know just how high a percentage that was – The New Kid was actually the target of quite a bit of admiration from parts of the student body. And why wouldn’t he be? He was tall, he was intelligent, he was well-spoken and apparently had the manners of a prince. Christine, the English teacher (whose proclivities Sue privately suspected to include some extremely suspicious substances), insisted that his eyes had mystical powers. He’d once diffused a fight in her classroom using no more than a few words and extremely effective ocular communication. Some girls, of course, would see the shabby clothing and just write him off but most seemed to be at least willing to speculate. 

Sue had been concerned about the boy’s home life when she’d met John Winchester to be honest. When she found out about the apparent ban on his participation in after-school activities she’d become more concerned, because what kind of parent wouldn’t allow his son to engage with other young people that way? That proved nothing – maybe they were religious. She couldn’t think of any particular sect that valued isolation so very strongly, but she wasn’t an expert. As the weather turned colder and his clothing did not become more weather appropriate, though, she became more concerned. 

She started watching more closely. Some days he came in with a limp, or favoring one side of his body. The gym teacher reported bruising on his shins, on his forearms. He’d explained them away as “roughhousing with his brother.” One Monday he came in with a black eye, a split lip and a multiple abrasions to the right side of his face. His right hand was bandaged too. Christine the English Teacher said he’d told her he’d had a close encounter with a trail at the state park that was steeper than he could handle. Sue wasn’t buying it for a minute. She’d watched him move. The boy was coiled grace and strength. He could probably free-climb a cliff face. There weren’t any trails at the local state park that were more than a little hilly. That was when she’d pulled out his file and some post-it flags.

She’d needed an extra packet of flags.

Not all of their moves had been predicated by Sam related incidents. Sometimes the Winchester family just moved with no obvious instigator that could be traced to the youngest member of the clan on paper. About half of the time, though, there seemed to be some kind of trigger that sprang up in the vicinity of the lovely young man with the mystical magical eyes. Sometimes there had been incidents involving medical treatment, appearing in the school records as hospital stays followed by a transfer to another state. When he was very young there had been a couple of very strange incidents that no one had ever explained but the Winchesters had simply abruptly left town at the same time as at least one (apparently very suspicious) teacher. Apparently some teachers had noticed odd bruising on the boy, particularly as he got older, but for the most part the notations only made it into the file after the Winchesters left town. There were concerns about injuries. There were concerns about socialization. There were concerns about nutrition and about his eating habits. There were concerns about… mental health? 

There was one consistent pattern that stuck out. Any time that a teacher or staff member called home about Sam Winchester the boy changed schools (and usually states) within two weeks. It didn’t matter what the cause was. If the call was about Sam’s health the family moved, usually after some choice words from the father. (“Don’t you tell me how to raise my boys, you don’t know anything!”) If the call was about Sam’s necessities – his clothes or his school supplies or his shoes or his gym equipment – the family simply relocated, usually after some choice words from whoever answered the phone. (“Sammy will just have to make do until payday, I’m afraid.” “His clothes are just fine, he’s a tough kid.” “He doesn’t need that crap.”) If it was about a disciplinary issue – fighting, usually – the family moved. (“I’ll take care of this myself, don’t you worry. He knows better than to be getting into it at school.”) 

If it was about Sam’s grades – Sam had made the honor roll, Sam had won some kind of award, Sam was at the top of his class – whoever took the call would meet the news with indifference. The brother was more polite, the father either grudgingly not obscene or openly abusive about it. There were multiple notes about teachers suspecting the father of being drunk when spoken to. Either way, the family would move quickly. 

Sue frowned, looking at the file. The pattern seemed pretty clear to her but it didn’t constitute proof. It was possible that there was some other reason for all of the moves (or that John Winchester could invent another reason.) It was possible that Sam’s periodic injuries had a different source. And there was no crime in being poor. It was kind of despicable to have such indifference toward the education of one’s child but it wasn’t illegal. 

Her intuition told her that something wasn’t right, that she needed to help this boy. Chances were that he’d be mobile again fairly soon, and probably with little warning. Fortunately she had a plan.

There was a knock at the door. “Mrs. Lawrence? You wanted to meet with me?” There he was, Sam Winchester in the flesh. He’d grown at least another inch in the time he’d been here. “Yes, Sam. Please, come in and have a seat. I wanted to talk to you about the SATs. We’re holding them here at the school a week from Saturday and I think you should take them.”

He shook his head. “Thanks, Mrs. Lawrence, but you heard my father. There’s no way that he’d ever allow that.” 

She leaned forward. He didn’t seem to have any obvious injuries today. “Now why would he object to a simple test, Sam? I’m covering the cost.”

“There’s only one reason to take the SATs, ma’am. He’ll never allow me to go to college. He wants me to drop out of high school.” 

She blinked. “Don’t… don’t do that, Sam.” 

He gave a little chuckle. “I don’t intend to, ma’am. He can’t make me sign the papers. But college – if he even thinks I’m doing anything to try to apply or look at schools or anything like that…”

He trailed off. Sue didn’t even want to know what horrible thoughts could be going through that boy’s head. “We’ll just have to not tell him, then. I have a plan.”


End file.
